The First Time
by valiasedai
Summary: Valene Amell and Alistair share their first time together. Fits in with my Destiny of Souls story, but also works as a stand alone piece.


_AN: This fits in after the first POV from Chapter 25 of Destiny of Souls. For those of you who haven't read, it's f!Amell and Alistair's first time together, but it's the first time for each of them as well._

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Valene's heart raced as they sat in silence, each of them slipping off their boots and stockings at the foot of the tent. She was nervous and eager, and she tried to recall the talk with enchanter Leorah years past. She'd warned about pain the first time, cautioned her against disappointment and had given her a short list of ways to make things easier. Thinking about the conversation made her face heat, but she tried to recall the advice the former tutor had given her. _"Relax, take your time, and don't let him take control, you need to be the one guiding this. Make sure you're ready." _She'd gone into detail about "readying" and Valene bit her lip, trying to think of a way to go about that without sending both of them into fits of embarrassed mumbling. She wanted this, of that she had no doubt, but she couldn't help the nerves and for once she regretted being so damnably innocent about it.

Lips pressed against her cheek and she closed her eyes with a content sigh. He calmed her, reassured her, just with a simple touch. "Are you alright? We don't have to do this if you don't want to." Alistair's voice was soft and his warm breath tickled the side of her face.

Turning to meet his lips in a kiss, she pressed against them briefly before drawing back. "I want to." _Maker, but I do._ She bit her lip and tried to stifle a nervous laugh. "I wouldn't mind help with the laces on my robes, though." The dress was easy enough to get on and off without help, but she wanted him _touching_ her. There was something exquisitely seductive about the way his hands and fingers caressed her, even if they were only on her face or her waist. Knowing it was him, knowing the way he wanted her, made her nerves quiet, if only for the moment.

His hands were on one set of the laces, his fingers moving gently and deftly, the latter surprising given the darkness of the tent. She had considered giving them a light, but the last thing they needed was someone unable to sleep wondering if Alistair had left a lamp on inside his tent. A gentle tug at her dress announced the withdrawal of one lace. He handed her the thin leather lace and kissed her once, saying nothing, before moving to the other side. His movements were slower this time and when he finally pulled the lace through he ran his fingers down the open slit in the dress. Rough fingertips ran along her skin, and she shivered – she remembered being ticklish there, but this didn't make her giggle, it made her breath catch in her throat while she ached for more.

Cupping his chin in her hand she drew him towards her for a kiss. Lips pressed against each other and she opened her mouth against his, flicking a tongue lightly. He responded and soon their tongues were intertwined, the heat of his mouth mingling with hers. Gentle touches turned more insistent and she arched against him as his hands pulled her close. Need pulsed inside her and she tugged at his tunic, pulling the bottom of the shirt free of his trousers. Snaking a hand underneath the thin fabric she ran her hand up his back, the heat of his skin warming further under her touch.

He pulled away from her, leaving her panting with need. He was pulling his tunic off and she tugged at it with him, impatient and eager. The sound of tearing fabric only encouraged her and she stripped the shirt off him, tossing it aside carelessly. She was panting hard, staring at his silhouette in the dark. She wanted to see his face, the way he was reacting and she tossed caution to the wind, casting a small ball of orange light. She set it to circle around the top of the tent and looked towards her lover.

She had seen him shirtless before, but having him so close brought an entirely new perspective. His broad shoulders and chest were heavily muscled and the moving light defined his athleticism in shadows. Reaching out tentatively, she traced her fingers over his chest and stomach and back again, smiling when a light brush against his nipple drew a soft whimper. The reaction thrilled her as much as the feel of him under her fingertips. It was such a new sensation and when his skin prickled under her touch she let out a quiet breath of fascination.

Alistair reached towards her slowly, running a thumb along her neck. She melted into the touch, closing her eyes and drinking in the sensation. His other hand was pushing at her robes, ever so gently, pulling them upwards with a slow, steady pressure. Reluctantly pulling her hands away from his skin, Valene moved them to the bunched up skirts of her robes. Taking a deep breath, she drew the garment over her head, skin prickling in the relative cool of the tent. As she laid the robe aside, she turned her gaze to her lap, a blush heating her cheeks. She was used to being half-naked in front of others – the dorms allowed little privacy, and with so many people coming and going it was inevitable to see, and be seen by, members of the opposite sex in varying states of undress during the day. This was different though – this was _Alistair_, and she had no idea what he would think.

* * *

His mouth dry, hands i_tching_ to touch her, Alistair tried to think of something to say or do, but coherent thoughts eluded him entirely. He still couldn't believe he was here, with her, both of them half-dressed and soon to be _naked_.

Valene fixed him with a shy, uncertain look, as if she wasn't sure of _him_ and the only way he could think to rectify that was to kiss her. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, a hand tangled in his hair and the next thing he knew his own hands were running along her sides, gripping her hips as she pulled him towards her. He could feel the way her skin prickled beneath his touch and he silently prayed it was out of excitement.

He was content to let his hands wander where they may, but it seemed Valene had different ideas. Her hands quickly undid the laces that led her breastband in place, the fabric falling away, letting Alistair get his first real glimpse of a woman's breasts. His heart leaped and he felt the response between his legs, too enraptured with Valene to be embarrassed by his body's increasingly obvious reaction. She took one of his hands in hers, guiding it to her chest, and Alistair let out a breath he didn't remember holding as soft, pliant flesh filled his hand. Barely daring to move, Alistair ran his thumb along the smooth skin, savoring the way she felt.

Distracted as he was by the newly bared breasts, Alistair failed to notice Valene's hand working at the ties on his trousers until he felt her hand brush against him. Freezing in place, Alistair met her gaze. He could feel her chest rise and fall against his hand and realized his own breathing mirrored hers. Lips met his as trousers were pushed down over his hips, and he awkwardly tried to shift and help, reluctant to take his hand from her.

Somehow they managed and it was just the two of them, the barest of small clothes on, and based on Valene's hands working somewhere out of his view, he had a feeling they wouldn't even have _those_ in the way much longer. The thought drove him towards her, and he finally dipped his heads to a breast, running his lips along the swell of flesh. The action brought a soft sigh from her, and Alistair couldn't help the small smile that formed on his lips.

Running his mouth over her exposed skin, Alistair tried to not focus _too _much on the way her hips were wriggling, and when she leaned back, extend those long, bared legs, he barely kept his composure as her small clothes slid right off. Even in the strange light he could see her cheeks darken, and he pulled her close again, wanting nothing more than to express how he felt, but his mind was a haze of needs, every single one of them involving _her_.

It was when she whispered in his ear that his last shred of embarrassment was tossed aside, the reluctance to remove his small clothes was shattered, as those two simple words spurred him to action. "Touch me."

* * *

They were naked now, both of them eagerly searching each other with hands and mouths, and Valene could feel the air in the tent heat. Alistair's mouth closed over her neck, his teeth lightly scraping against her skin, causing a shiver that went into her very bones. His fingers were where she had guided him – between her legs, moving in quick little strokes over that particularly sensitive knob of flesh – and when she gasped the hungry look he gave her only deepened.

One finger pressed _there_ and suddenly her body was tense, back arching as she let out a choked cry, pleasure coursing through her. By the time the sensations were over, she was on her back, panting, and Alistair was over her, mouth running over her neck and shoulders, her head dizzy with the onslaught of sensations.

It wasn't until she felt Alistair pressing against her that a tiny shred of rational thought leapt into her mind. She put her hands on his chest and shook her head, fighting the desire to just _let_ it happen.. "Wait." He froze above her, holding his breath. Slowly pushing at him she tried to guide him to roll over, but he didn't understand and started to sit back. It was then she realized what must be going through his head. "Oh love, it's not that at all," She leaned forward and kissed him between panting breaths. "I still want this, I want _you_, just... lie back."

Shadows played across his face and he looked at her trusting, if confused as he reclined on the bedroll. Leaning down to kiss him, Valene took his erection in her hand, stroking him slowly. When he moaned her name against her mouth she pulled away again. Trying to align her body with his, she straddled his hips awkwardly at first, shifting to find a more comfortable position.

When she'd finally settled in a position that vaguely approached practical, Valene felt a shiver run through her. Anxiety surged and she had no idea how much this would actually hurt, just that pain was inevitable. Alistair brought a hand to cup her cheek and he looked up at her with concern. "Are you alright?"

She nodded slightly. "Yes, just let me do all of the, um, moving at first. This is going to... hurt me." Valene hated sounding so clinical about everything, but the last thing she needed was Alistair fretting about her when she was trying to manage whatever _it_ was going to do to her.

Her lover was shaking his head. "I don't want to hurt you, I-" She put a finger to his lips to quiet him and he kissed it softly.

"It's unavoidable, but I've had, um, advice on how to make it better." He looked at her incredulously. "From another mage." His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open just slightly.

"Maker, you've asked _Wynne_ about this?" His voice was well above its normal pitch.

Trying not to laugh at his obvious horror she shook her head vigorously. "No! It was back at the Tower, a long time ago. Mages are known for being rather... promiscuous, so most get some sort of advice, whether it's wanted or not."

Alistair pursed his lips and his eyebrows furrowed. "And you didn't die of shame? I think I would have just burst into flame out of sheer embarrassment."

Leaning forward to plant a light kiss, Valene tried not to laugh. "Now you're just distracting me. Unless you've changed your mind?" She reached between his legs and wrapped her hand around him again. She felt him twitch in response and couldn't help the satisfied smile that curved her lips.

Alistair tilted his head back and let out a soft breath. "No... No, anything but that." He started shifting to press into her hand, and she shook her head.

"Then be still." He quieted down, lying beneath her with a look that was a perfect balance of love and lust.

Her heart was pounding so loud it was almost hurting her ears, the incessant throb so powerful she could feel her pulse anywhere their skin met. Shifting her hips, she brought him to press against her, leaning back over him until she felt resistance. Instinctively tensing, she drew a shaking breath and tried to find it within herself to relax. It was several moments before she had steadied her breath enough to begin relaxing her body. Exhaling, she tried to push against him slowly, but that quickly proved to be a poor way of doing things and she eased up. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and pushed back, hard, and something inside her tore. The pain made her thighs tremble and she sunk against Alistair's chest with a soft moan. His arms wrapped around her and he kissed the top of her head, whispering sweet nothings as one hand stroked her hair. As they lay together, she closed her eyes and waited for the sharpness to subside.

* * *

Alistiar clung to Valene, trying to keep his focus on the way she felt in his arms instead of the way he felt inside her. She was so tight and hot and... _Oh Maker, I need to remember the Chant_. It was the only thing he could think of that could possibly distract him from the heat welling inside him. He didn't exactly know what to expect now, but he understood there was typically movement involved and the slightest thought of moving within her made him bite his lip until it hurt, anything to restrain himself. Just when he started to gain control, she shifted slightly and he couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips.

She kept moving though, and he pushed his thoughts back to his Templar training, back to the verses they had been required to recite daily. _Benedictions 4:10-11_ _Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just_. She was moving faster, and he could feel the heat radiating from her. _Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written. _

Her body was thrusting against him in earnest now, and the soft orange light showed the sheen of sweat on her skin. _Transfigurations 1:1 These truths the Maker has revealed to me: As there is but one world, one life, one death, there is but one god and He is our Maker._ Impossible as he would have thought, she tightened around him and drew a breath that seemed to lift her whole body up even though he could feel her pushing _down_. _They are sinners, who have given their love to false gods. _Her head fell back and one word escaped from her lips. "Alistair."

He tasted blood and realized he'd bitten his tongue hard enough to draw blood. The taste drew him back as much as the Chant did. She was on his chest again, slick with sweat and trembling against his skin. _Trembling _around_ me, oh Maker. _Her soft breaths tickled his neck and they lay quiet for several moments before she spoke. "Love?"

He barely trusted himself to move, let alone speak. "Hmm?"

Lips pressed against the line of his jaw and he could feel her nose brush his cheek. "Did you... I mean, have you, ah... finished?"

Unable to help a small laugh, he turned his head just enough to kiss her. "Trust me, that, uh, won't be a problem." He felt his cheeks heat and he cleared his throat. "Are you - I mean, do you feel... alright?"

She made a small noise of contentment. "Maker, yes. Could I somehow... return the favor?"

Alistair felt his eyebrows shoot up and his ears heated this time. "Ah. I don't think I could turn down that sort of, um, offer." He didn't want this to be over, but being so close was beginning to drive him a bit mad and he wasn't certain recitations would help much longer.

Panic filled him as she slid off of him and lay down by his side, her hand tugging at his arm, pulling her towards him. The idea of _him_ taking the lead, even now, was the last thing he'd wanted. Still, his body moved at her gentle guidance, however much his mind balked at the idea of trusting himself with her, of him moving _with_ her this time. Slowly, gently, he followed her movements until he was nestled between her legs and she was beneath him, smiling at him. He leaned down to kiss her, expecting reluctance, but he found the earlier passion had returned, her tongue slipping into his mouth even as a hand moved to grip his hip. That was all it took for him to reconsider his position, particularly when her other hand slid around him, and he felt the damp heat as she guided him to her.

Instinct took over and he pushed into her, whimpering as she enveloped him. He could feel his legs trembling and his entire body seemed ready to collapse from the sheer pleasure of it all. In his wildest fantasies he hadn't imagined it would feel this good and he felt the overwhelming urge to release his tenuous grip on control. She was watching his face, her eyes heavily lidded, reflecting that strange, other-worldly orange that matched the light circling the top of the tent. The hand on his hip pulled him towards her as she shifted under him in encouragement.

His breath hitched and his instincts began to take over, begging for him to lose control _now_, even though he wished it would go on forever. Clawing at the Chant once more, Alistair let himself move with her while his mind tried to brace against too early a release. _Transfiguration 12:1 – O Maker, hear my cry_. He let out a low groan and she murmured something in reply, but he was too torn between his body's need to finish and his mind's desire to continue _moving_ to comprehend mere words. _Guide me through the blackest nights_. He was moving faster now, and she was responding to him, whispering encouragement, one hand moving along his back, the other still between her legs, moving in time with his thrusts. He closed his eyes, the mere sight of her mouth open _just so_ pushing him closer to the edge. _Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked_. He'd never been so completely at the mercy of his desires, never felt need so keenly it was almost painful. He heard her cry out his name and felt her tense around him, felt her delicate fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders and he knew he could stand no more. _Make me to rest in the warmest of places_. He plunged into her one last time, the heat of her overwhelming him. The pleasure was blinding, deafening – he couldn't see or hear or think any longer – there was only his release, the culmination of every sweet thing he'd ever known paling in comparison to this moment.

When thought, if he could _call_ it thought, returned, he was lying over her, face buried in her soft brown hair that lay in a tangled mess around her head. Somehow he'd managed to keep some of his weight on his elbows and her cheek was pressed against his. She was whispering in his ear, asking if he was alright.

His first attempt to move was met by rebellious limbs – his entire body felt like jelly, arms and legs quivering as he tried to force them to lift his weight. Catching his breath, he nuzzled the spot just below her ear, inhaling her scent deeply. He wanted to stay here, fall asleep in this heady haze of pure bliss, but he knew he needed to move unless he wanted to wake up to a crushed lover. With a deep sigh, he carefully withdrew from her, trying to hide his disappointment when they were no longer joined. He moved just enough to roll onto his back, panting again with the effort of making taxed muscles move.

She snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder, body pressing against his. An arm slid over his chest, hugging him to her and he turned his head with a smile. He planted a small kiss lips, drawing a happy smile from er. Something in his head reminded him and he felt his eyes go wide. "Maker, Valne, are you alright? At the end there, I forgot to- Oh Maker's britches." _How could I have been so careless_?

She was shaking her head, propping herself up on one elbow. "No, don't worry, it's alright, really. I thought it would be worse than it was, but it wasn't bad at all." A small smile curved her lips. "Wonderful, in fact."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. He wasn't entirely certain she was telling the truth, and the memory of the way he'd abandoned himself shamed him. Looking away he closed his eyes and tried to think of something to say.

A delicate hand cupped his cheek and turned his face towards hers. Her eyes were intent and bright, and she lightly kissed his lips. "You didn't hurt me." She kissed him again, coaxing him into a response. He felt his momentary guilt melt away under her gentle kisses and finally let himself relax.

Gently stroking her damp, tangled hair, Alistair let out a content sigh. The world had never been so right.


End file.
